


The Fall

by elizaye



Series: FWB!verse [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Jealousy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-13
Updated: 2012-12-13
Packaged: 2017-11-21 01:07:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/591717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizaye/pseuds/elizaye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean goes to Cas's the morning after their fight to apologize. He gets an unpleasant surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fall

Dean knows that he’s excellent at making breakfast.  Cas has told him so more than once, and knowing Cas’s remarkable knack at picking out the best foods at the best restaurants, it means a lot when he says that someone’s cooking is very good.  It helps that Dean knows him well enough to know that he wouldn’t lie to Dean to make him feel better about himself.  They’re closer than that.

Which brings him to the reason why he’s in Cas’s kitchen at six in the fucking morning, flipping pancakes on the ancient, annoying pan that Cas has—Dean loves making food, but he abhors clean-up, which is why they invented _nonstick_ pans.  But he doesn’t really know what got into him last night, so he’ll apologize by making Cas a bomb breakfast before work, and by doing the clean-up himself.

Two pancakes—blueberry, ‘cause those are Cas’s favorite; three eggs, because Dean’s hoping to mooch one from Cas after he’s been forgiven; and a generous serving of bacon later, Dean’s scrubbing the stubborn-ass pan in the sink when he hears the click of the front door being unlocked.

He instantly freezes, mind skipping quickly through a number of possibilities.

Could Cas be leaving the apartment early?  Is he only just getting in ‘cause he was too angry to come home last night?  Is it a burglar picking the lock and entering?  Did Cas mention any of his brothers coming to visit recently?

Then there’s the familiar creak of the front door as it swings open, and Dean hears footsteps in the short hallway leading to the sitting room.  And he _knows_ it’s not Cas, because Cas would never wear click-clack-y shoes into his apartment, and besides, the rhythm of those footsteps is all wrong.

Dean takes two huge steps out of the kitchen to cut off the intruder and comes face-to-face with a pair of startled, blue-grey eyes shadowed by a prominent brow.  The man’s nose is long, proud, and his hair is blond, cropped short and gelled neatly in a very put-together style.  His thin lips curl up on one side into something between a smirk and a leer, and Dean instantly decides that he doesn’t like the guy.

“Dean, right?  Dean Winchester?”

“Uh… yeah.  Who are you?”

“I thought you and Cas never stayed the night,” the man says, ignoring Dean’s question.

His eyes drop down, and Dean realizes how ridiculous he must look—pan still gripped tightly in his left hand, right hand clenched into a fist, soapy water up to his fucking elbows, dripping all over the place.  A quick glance at the stranger’s black, neatly pressed suit jacket, slacks, and tie makes Dean feel even more like a heathen in his threadbare Zeppelin shirt and ratty jeans.

“Though I suppose,” the man continues, eyes raking over Dean’s body appraisingly and making Dean feel acutely uncomfortable, “I now understand why he’s been holding back on moving our relationship to a more physical level.”

Dean blinks a few times, mind hardly able to process this.  Cas has a… _relationship?_

But his tongue apparently has a mind of its own, because he responds with, “Well, that’s just Cas.  Doesn’t put out on the first date.”

“Nor the sixth or the seventh,” the blond man answers readily, and Dean just doesn’t believe it.

He’s only been gone just under two weeks.  Twelve days.  Cas can’t have gone on a date every other night because that’s just not Cas, so how long has this been going on?  What even… what _is_ this?  And if Cas has this, whatever it is, then what is Dean?

“You still haven’t explained what you’re doing in my boyfriend’s kitchen,” the man prods.

_Boyfriend._

Dean’s brain promptly shuts down.  His heart, on the other hand, pounds fierce, hard, and aching in his chest, and he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“I uh… nothing,” he says, fumbling with the words because his head is definitely not onboard with talking to Cas’s… Cas’s… guy.  Friend.

“You look surprised to see me,” the man says.  “Has Cas not told you about me?  Because believe me, I’ve heard all about you.”

Dean just shakes his head.

“Oh, I’m wounded.  Well, my name is Balthazar.”

The guy—Balthazar—holds his hand out, and Dean stares down at it, still numb.  _Get a grip_ , he tells himself, but it’s about as useful as politely asking a herd of bison to get out of the road.

“Right.  You’re… soapy,” Balthazar says, pulling his hand back.

Dean clears his throat, trying to get a hold of himself.  “Yeah.  Yeah, sorry ‘bout that.  I was just uh, heading out.”

“With a soapy frying pan.”

“Wha—uh, no.  I was gonna finish up the dishes and go,” Dean says, and he’s grateful that his feet are finally working, because he’s able to turn away from Balthazar and reenter the kitchen, returning to the sink to finish up quickly.

“Oh, you don’t have to leave.  Though you still haven’t explained why you’re still here.  Cas told me that you don’t stay the night.”

Dean swallows hard.  The ache isn’t going away.  He feels cold and empty, like something that used to be inside of him was just ripped away, quickly and without empathy.

“I didn’t,” he says tightly.  He just wants to get outta here before Cas wakes up.  But Cas is a friggin’ light sleeper.  He’s probably awake already, getting dressed to meet his _boyfriend_ , and _fuck_ , but that hurts.

“Oh?” Balthazar says.  It sounds like he’s about to continue, but Cas’s voice drifts into the room—

“Balthazar!  Who’d you bring—”

Cas stops speaking abruptly, and Dean turns his head to see Cas standing in the entrance to the kitchen, eyes flitting between Dean and Balthazar.

“Dean,” he finally says, and there’s something off, something detached, something _wrong_ , about his tone.  That’s not how he’s supposed to say Dean’s name.  “What are you doing here?”

“Nothing,” Dean says, and he wishes he’d had the brains to realize that he should’ve dumped the breakfast before Cas came in, because those wide, blue eyes are settling on the plate of food in a strange mix of surprise and… anger.

“I take it you’re not ready to go, yet,” Balthazar says after a moment of silence.

“No,” Cas responds.  Dean finishes rinsing the pan and sticks it in the dish rack to dry.

“I can call my client, if you want.  She wouldn’t mind waiting.”

“No, no.  Don’t delay on my behalf.  I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.”

“Plenty of time, then,” Balthazar says.

Awkward silence falls over the group again, and Dean wonders how the fuck he’s supposed to leave.  Finally, he turns away from the sink and tells himself he’s just gotta walk out.  Just _go_.  Because he can’t stay here for another minute.

“Cas, I think you and Dean might have some things to discuss,” Balthazar says, and Dean’s eyes flick to the blond—what is he doing?  “I’ll wait in the car.  Let me know if you’re going to be late, all right?”

“We don’t need to talk,” Dean says, turning his attention back to Cas.

“No, we do,” Cas replies, and just like that, Dean’s rooted to the spot.  “Thank you, Balthazar.  I will join you shortly.”

Balthazar’s lips quirk up in the first semblance of a genuine smile Dean’s seen since he met the guy, and he starts to leave the room.  As he passes by Cas, he runs his hand through the soft tufts of black hair, still mussed from sleep.  Jealousy swells in Dean’s chest.  No one— _no one_ —but Dean is allowed to touch Cas like that.

And then he’s out of the room, leaving the apartment, shutting the door behind him.

Cas fixes unreadable eyes on Dean the instant they’re alone together.  “What is the meaning of this?” he demands.

“I don’t—”

“Why are you here, Dean?  Last night, you said in no uncertain terms that _this_ —” he gestures between them “—was over.”

“I didn’t—it was in the heat of the moment, Cas!  You were being fucking stubborn, and I just—”

“I was being stubborn because _you_ were pushing our boundaries!  We agreed to enter into this… this _arrangement_ , after setting those rules together, and you can’t just change them on your own, whenever you feel like it.”

Dean bristles at the anger in Cas’s tone.  “Yeah well, when were you gonna tell me about Balthazar?  We _agreed_ that nothing would change, but you’ve been hiding something from me, haven’t you?”

“I don’t have to tell you everything that happens in my life, Dean.  I didn’t do so before we started sleeping together, and I didn’t feel the need to after.  Nothing has changed—you are not my keeper.”

“Yeah, but we’re friends, aren’t we?  Isn’t a boyfriend—” Dean resists the urge to flinch as he says the word “—something that you’d tell your friend about?  Especially a friend that you’re fooling around with?”

“I’ve been meaning to tell you, but Balthazar and I have not entered into a serious relationship yet, and I do not know where the two of us are headed,” Cas replies easily.  Dean stares at him, perplexed—he’d been expecting a more defensive response.  “Well?” Cas says expectantly.

“Well, what?”

“Well, you know now.  So what?”

“I just…” Dean’s voice fades.

Honestly, he doesn’t even know what he’s trying to say.  That Cas was going behind his back?  Because that’s definitely what it feels like.  But… but those fucking _rules_ —going by whatever bullshit they agreed on, Dean has no claim over Cas.  Hell, Dean himself suggested that they not be exclusive.  God, that was stupid.  Cas hasn’t done anything _wrong_ , yet Dean can’t shake this gut-deep feeling of betrayal.

“Just what?” Cas says expectantly.

“Forget it.  I’m outta here.”

Dean starts for the exit, but Cas grabs his arm as he tries to pass by.

“No, we’re finishing this today,” Cas says.  “Why did you come here this morning?”

Dean shakes Cas’s hand off but doesn’t try to leave again.  “Isn’t that obvious?” he says irritably.

Cas eyes the plate of breakfast still sitting on the counter.  “No.  No, it’s really not.”

“I wanted to apologize for acting like an idiot last night, all right?” Dean spits out.  “And that’s as close to an apology as I’m going, so you can either—”

“What, you think a food offering is going to magically fix everything?  I’m not you.”

Dean ignores the jab.  “Look, I… I gotta know what you’re planning on doing about Balthazar.  You gotta level with me and tell me if this is over.”

“You were the one who said—”

“I already explained that that was just in the heat of the moment, all right?  Haven’t you ever said something without really meaning it?”

Cas is silent for a moment.  Then he asks, “Do you want to… go back, then?  To the way that we were?”

Dean opens his mouth and closes it again.

No.  No, that’s not what he wants at all, because he wants more than that.  _Needs_ more than that.  The thought of Balthazar downstairs, waiting in a no-doubt fancy car for Cas to come downstairs, brings out this unfamiliar rage in his chest.  Dean can give Cas as many cars as he wants, but he doesn’t have the same taste in ridiculously ancient, musty things that Cas does, and he certainly doesn’t have the patience to go to museums and appreciate shit on canvas.

Cas sighs.  “Balthazar is waiting.  I need to get ready.”

Jealousy rears up in Dean, and he’s grabbing Cas’s arm before he really knows what he’s doing, shoving Cas into the hallway and pressing him up against the wall.

“Dean—”

Dean forces Cas to shut up by pressing their lips together, licking into Cas’s hot, wet mouth.  _Mine, mine, mine_ , Dean’s brain chants even as Cas brings his hands up and presses against Dean’s chest, trying to push him away.

“D—sto—” is as much as Cas can get out around Dean’s tongue in his mouth, and Dean intends to keep it that way.

But Cas finally shoves him back, and Dean stumbles.  He really shouldn’t be surprised at this point by how strong Cas is, but it’s easy to forget the hidden strength packed in Cas’s small form.  It didn’t hurt him, physically, to be pushed away, but he feels like he’s toppling, _falling_ , and it’s utterly disconcerting.

“I really have to get dressed,” Cas says, hurrying into the small sitting room.

Dean follows him through his small apartment and into his bedroom.  “Yes, okay?  Yes, I want this to keep going.”  He’s falling, _falling_ —“But you’re the one who’s got a boyfriend now, Cas.  It’s—”

“If you want this to continue, you’re going to have to respect the rules we set up,” Cas says calmly, stripping out of his t-shirt and sweats.  Dean can’t help but stare at his body, even though he’s seen it countless times before.  “Dean?”

“Oh, come on.  I just did _one_ thing, and now you’re treating me as though I’ve broken a law or something.”

“That’s not entirely true.  Among other things, we agreed on no breakfast for the morning after, no staying the night… and now, you’ve tried to violate both rules.”

“The breakfast has gotta be an exception, man.”

Cas is in the process of buttoning up a polo shirt, and Dean watches his thin fingers at work.  God, all the things those fingers have done—he remembers watching Cas finger himself open, remembers having to grip his own dick tight at the base to stop himself from coming on the spot.

The plummeting feeling gets decidedly worse, and it’s all Dean can do to remain standing.

“Fine,” Cas says.  “Is this all settled, then?”

“Yeah.  No.  About Balthazar—”

“What happens between me and him is between us,” Cas says instantly.  “But if you must know, we have not slept together.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

Cas fixes a hard stare on Dean.  “Why?  Do you feel bad right now?”  He mock-gasps before continuing, a note of bitterness in his tone that Dean can’t stand, “Oh my _god_ , Dean Winchester’s actually expressing _feelings?_   Storm clouds are rolling in quick now, in preparation for the end of the fucking world.”

The floor’s giving way beneath his feet.  “Do you _have_ to do that?”

“I’m sorry.  It was out of line,” Cas says, but Dean’s too distracted by the sight of him tying his tie, and all Dean can think about is how perfect it would be to grab a fistful of Cas’s tie and drag him close for an utterly filthy kiss.  Something, _anything_ , to keep him from going downstairs to the other guy.

Then Cas is pulling on a pair of black slacks, and Dean didn’t even know Cas owned anything this fancy.  His family has never been very supportive of Cas, meaning that they barely gave him enough money to cover half his rent, and the only way Cas was able to pay for college was through scholarships.  He gets this sick feeling of dread that maybe Balthazar was the one who gave Cas this outfit.  Maybe Balthazar is the doting kind of boyfriend, the kind that Cas clearly deserves.  And holy… where the fuck did that thought come from?

As Cas shrugs into a suit jacket, he says, “So are we good, Dean?”

No.  Definitely not.  “Yeah.  Yeah, we’re good.”

“Good.”  Cas leaves his bedroom and goes into the bathroom to check his appearance in the mirror.  “Dean, I… thank you for making breakfast.  Sorry that I won’t be able to eat it—you go ahead.”

Dean just nods, not really able to trust his voice right now.  He watches as Cas returns to the room and puts on a pair of black socks, and then Cas is rushing out of the room toward the exit.

“Lock the door on your way out,” Cas calls from the other room, and Dean’s mind automatically flashes back to that first morning they’d spent together, the way Cas had given in so easily, so perfectly.

Then the door’s closing behind Cas, and Dean lets his legs give out, sinking onto the foot of Cas’s bed.  He still feels like his stomach is trying to drop straight out of him.  His chest aches fiercely, and his eyes are prickling.

Fuck, he’s not about to _cry_ over this.  Over Cas.

His head falls into his hands, and he wonders how things went so wrong.  How did he get so in over his head?  And how did he not even notice until now, until Cas had already gone and found someone else?

He wants more than anything to chase after Cas, to tell him that he belongs to _Dean_ and no one else, that he’s not allowed to have anyone else because he is Dean’s world, and that means Dean must be his world as well.  And goddamn it, that’s sappy as fuck.

But if that’s not in the cards… the least Dean can do is end this.  He should be able to just move on, like he did with Anna, with Lisa, with Cassie.  Dean’s never been the staying kind anyway, and he and Cas have been doing this for a while.  It shouldn’t be a difficulty to just say goodbye to this _thing_ and go right back to normal.  He and Lisa were fine after the breakup—it wasn’t weird at all.  So yeah, leaving this is the right thing to do.  It’ll give Cas a chance at a real relationship with Balthazar, lucky douchebag, and Dean wants to see Cas happy.

Except that Dean’s too selfish to take that path.  He wants Cas to be happy _with him_.  Not Balthazar, not any other guy.  Dean and only Dean.  And if all he can do is satisfy Cas’s sexual needs, well, at least he’s still got some of him.

And fuck if that isn’t the most pathetic thing Dean’s ever thought in his life.  _Christ_.


End file.
